Unforgettable
by LivingForWriting
Summary: 'Are you going to kill me, Granger' Hermione stumbles across a secret organisation led by Harry and other familiar faces and is caught up in this dangerous web of secrets and lies.
1. Chapter One

...

'I will not stand for it!'

'Change is necessary, Frogworth! We need to protect those who cannot protect themselves!'

'And vandalise the rights of our own people?'

'We've seen it time and time again,' interjected Hermione loudly. She sat to the right of the chairman of the meeting yet many of the elder wizards did not even turn to look at her as she spoke. 'These objects inevitably end up back in the hands of Muggles– often risks of breaking the Statute of Secrecy if not positively dangerous in themselves.'

'What about Arthur Weasley?' shouted a rather sneery assistant to Frogworth who had only just sat down beside him. 'You do realise that this will end your future father-in-law's tinkering?'

Hermione took the jibe with a genial smile. 'Arthur Weasley is not a law-breaker, Simmons,' she said quietly. 'He has no record previous business associations with the likes of Mundungus Fletcher, unlike others I could mention.' Simmons' rodent-like face flushed immediately and he set to shuffling his notes. 'Therefore,' continued Hermione. 'He will apply for a license to buy whatever Muggle appliances he desires and as he has no criminal record in the Misuse of Muggle Artefacts, he will mostly likely be granted it.'

'Helps when you're head of the department,' grunted Simmons bravely.

'It was your example,' answered Hermione serenely. There was a short silence before the wizard to Hermione's left spoke: 'Are we agreeing to submit plans for a change in the law to be approved by the Minister?'

There was another explosion of opinion as Frogworth began to pound his armrest loudly and other wizards and witches began to yell at each other across the table. Hermione sighed and ran a hand over her eyes. It was going to be a long night. Ron would definitely be home by now. She wondered if he would have the sense to put the dinner in the oven. When Hermione looked down at her papers again there was a folded piece of paper resting on them.

_Nice come back. I'm going to get Simmons with a Bat Bogey Hex in the canteen tomorrow. Care to join me?_

Hermione smirked. She glanced quickly to her right, her eyes meeting Ernie Macmillan's for a second before resting on Simmons' pink face. She grabbed her quill and scrawled an answer.

_Love to!_

She tossed the note to Ernie who chuckled before pocketing it. The row continued to rage on. Sparks were now shooting out of Frogworth's wand and the chairman was on his feet, threatening to arrest all members of the committee who did not put away their wands immediately. Ernie tipped his head to the side, indicating the drinks table behind the chairman. Hermione nodded and they got up together.

'I'll hold you to that tomorrow,' said Ernie as he poured water into a cup of tea leaves. 'Bat Bogey on Simmons.'

'He's too cocky for his own good,' agreed Hermione, reaching for the cups of coffee under an insulation charm. 'He follows Frogworth around like a little dog, hoping that if he brings him one more cup of tea then he'll be made Minister for Magic... and he was late, the cheek of it.'

'Little bastard,' breathed Ernie. 'You know he's only got four Exceeds Expectations? Merlin knows how he got that job.'

'Don't be petty, Ernie,' admonished Hermione lightly. 'I wouldn't work for Frogworth for all the Galleons in Gringotts anyway.' They both watched Frogworth being subdued by many of his assistants as they tried to convince him not to attack the chairman who was beginning to restore order.

'We should probably wade in again,' sighed Ernie. There was a loud shout as one of the witches discovered an article about wizards collecting Muggle art in the proposal that had been missed by others. It appeared that she was affronted by the idea that anyone in the wizarding community would even consider Muggle works as art. The squabble began again as the chairman collapsed into his seat with his head in his hands.

'I'll join you in a minute,' said Hermione. 'I need some fresh air.' She pointed over her shoulder towards the double doors that led out onto a balcony. Discussions over new laws or amendments to old ones were better off held in buildings outside the Ministry. If the department was seen as uninfluenced by Ministerial politics and rivalries, the quicker public confidence in the law would grow.

This was difficult when the personal politics of the department itself were causing brawls, thought Hermione as she opened the stiff double doors with difficulty. She walked out onto the balcony, clutching her cup of coffee tightly in her hands. The night air was bitter but after the humidity of the room she had just left, it was delightful. She breathed deeply, leaning against the balustrade and staring up at the stars. The murmur of traffic at the end of the road and the cacophony of voices from the room behind her were merging together to form a humming that was almost comforting. Hermione's eyelids began to droop and she started every time her head fell forward. She took a sip of her coffee; she really needed to stay awake.

Then she saw lights flickering below her and the sound of hushed voices. Curious, Hermione leant over the edge of the barrier, squinting through the dark. Three figures were stalking down the road, all dressed in black – she could only see their pale faces gleaming in the darkness under hoods. They were wearing cloaks. Hermione leant over the balustrade further. The flickers of light were coming for their wands which were aloft. These mysterious night walkers were using wands without fear in a Muggle street. Hermione was finding it difficult to breath – the thought had now crept into her mind that these three people were Death Eaters. She could think of no one else who would disregard discretion in Muggle areas with such nerve – despite the fact that it was widely understood that the Death Eater movement had well and truly died out. Then she noticed something gleaming on the back of their cloaks. A silver diamond glittered on the back of each black cloak, and that was no Death Eater mark.

Hermione did not go inside. She stared down onto the street, breathing as quietly as possible – listening. The figures stopped suddenly in the middle of the road. Hermione had not noticed before, but there was a shape lying in the middle of the road. A large mass of something, Clothes perhaps? Or rubbish? The cloaks formed a small circle around the bulk and one of them crouched down, removing her hood.

The witch had white blonde hair which framed her pale face. Her lips were especially prominent – noticeably large and red. She pointed her wand at the shape and the light fell upon a body. There was a corpse lying in the middle of the road. The woman shone the light onto the face and Hermione saw it was a man. His skin was scarred – long jagged lines running across his cheek – and his mouth was slightly ajar.

'There's our man,' whispered a man. Hermione thought it was the one who stood closest to her, his back to the balcony. The blonde woman looked up at him.

'Have you noticed that he's wearing Muggle clothes?' she snapped.

'Yes – he's clever,' said the wizard slowly – contempt colouring his voice.

'I think you're over-estimating him,' retorted the blonde. 'This kind of hatred runs deep – he's not clever enough to sully himself with Muggle clothing just to get away from us.'

'It's him, I'm telling you,' insisted the man. The cloaked figure who stood at the corpse's feet had not said anything. 'And they've finally got him for betraying them.'

'I say sport,' said the woman firmly, turning to the silent silhouette. 'They've run into a Muggle and taken him out for fun - '

'They would have tortured him,' interrupted the man that faced her. 'We would have heard screaming.'

'Then he was in the way,' The blonde woman stood up so that she was face to face with her challenger. 'They knew we were behind them, he might have said something – quick spell and he's out of the way.'

'What kind of Muggle has scars like that?'

'One who's been in a fight?' I don't know but I'm sure that - '

'Death Eater. I'm sure as hell..'

'_He's wearing Muggle clothes!_'

'_I'm not blind!_'

'Either way, the victim was killed by wizards – we saw the green light – and we know that the Death Eaters wanted to get their old friend tonight ...' The third figure had finally spoken up. His voice seemed too familiar to Hermione, who still peered over the edge of the balcony, clutching cold coffee.

'The question we need answering is,' he continued. 'did they get him?' There was a moment's pause and then the wizard looked upwards, right at the balcony. 'What do you think, Hermione?'

Hermione gasped and jumped back from the rail. She heard her coffee cup smash against the pavement. She turned and dashed back through the double doors into the conference room. Her heart was bashing against her ribcage and her breath was fast. The fright of being caught eavesdropping was nothing. A tornado was raging through Hermione's head because she had just looked into the eyes of Harry Potter for the first time in three years.

...

Hermione's feet hit the ground and the sweet smell of honeysuckle hit her instantly. She pushed open the gate, her hand brushing the flowers that grew through the fence and over the latch. The small house that she shared with Ron was on the outskirts of Copythorne and suited Hermione perfectly. The Muggle village was a respectable place to meet her family in and it was nice to have a home in what she believed was the real world. She didn't like the idea of wizards isolating themselves completely from Muggles. There had to be complete co-habitation – they were all human after all.

Hermione heaved her briefcase to the front step and got out her wand to unlock the front door. She was dreading talking to Ron. She didn't know how she was going to tell him that she had seen Harry. That he was in London, in a distance easily Apparated. How could she tell him that his best friend was running after Death Eaters with two strangers? Hermione was sorely tempted not to bring it up at all. She murmured the password and the lion door knocker on which she rested her wand nodded at her before the lock clicked.

'Hello?' she called as she kicked her briefcase into the hall.

'In here!' A voice drifted out of the sitting room. Hermione strolled in, taking off her coat, to find Ron kneeling by the coffee table while placing the final Exploding Snap Card on top of a tower of them that had evidently taken some time.

'If you knock that over, I'm not tidying up,' she warned, dropping her cloak on the back of the sofa. Ron didn't answer but just exhaled in relief as he took his hand away and the tower remained standing. 'Did you put dinner on?' Hermione asked.

'I've already eaten,' said Ron guiltily, climbing up onto the sofa. 'I went to the Three Broomsticks with George – two sausage and mash for one Galleon, two Sickles.' He smiled expectantly, as if Hermione would find this offer as exciting as he did. 'Sorry,' he added when she didn't react with the expected enthusiasm.

'Don't worry about it,' Hermione sighed. 'I'll make myself something now.' She went into the kitchen where a Sheppard's pie sat on the stove, waiting to go in the oven. Half of it would go to waste now, thought Hermione.

'You hear about that body?' Ron shouted from the other room. Hermione froze with her hands in the oven. How long had it been since she led Ernie out onto the street? How many hours had it taken for Simmons to Apparate to the Ministry to report it? How on earth could Ron know? She dropped the earthenware dish into the oven with a clatter.

'What? I can't hear you?' she lied. Ron came ambling into the kitchen as she turned the dial on the oven.

'Body was found in Mayfair,' he told her. 'Percy dropped in to give me back my Chudley Cannons scarf. He saw the Law Enforcement Squad bringing him in – killed by another wizard he heard.'

'No, I didn't hear anything,' said Hermione, her face in the cupboard as she found herself a plate. She heard Ron settle himself on top of the kitchen table. For some reason this greatly annoyed her.

'Weren't you at Mayfair today? Misuse of Muggle Artefacts meeting?' Hermione could imagine Ron's furrowed brow. She felt terribly guilty – he was bothering to remember her schedule and she was lying to his face. Well, to the bottom of the cutlery drawer.

'I sat that one out,' she answered. 'Ernie's better in that kind of environment – they're all a bit aggressive and ... pompous.' Ron laughed loudly.

'Yeah, I can see Ernie getting into that a bit more than you,' he said as Hermione laid herself a place at the kitchen table. 'So were you at the office then? Only Percy said you weren't in there at nine – he was going to give you my scarf.'

'I took a break,' said Hermione; her heart was beating too fast. She was worried that Ron was going to hear it. 'Went for a walk, bought a sandwich in that Muggle shop' – Ron rolled his eyes with a grin – 'then I was back to it until about twenty minutes ago. So, how was your day?' She strolled back over to the oven and tapped it once with her wand. It grunted impatiently; her dinner wasn't quite heated up yet.

'Nothing to report really,' sighed Ron before grinning wildly as he remembered something. 'George and Angelina are officially together now – we went over to the Burrow for lunch with her ...' He fell silent then and Hermione had to dip her head to catch his eye. 'I forgot to tell you something actually.'

'What is it?' asked Hermione with trepidation.

'Ginny was at the Burrow when we got there,'

'She's home?' exclaimed Hermione, unable to keep the excitement from her voice. Ron snorted.

'She was there for an hour,' he said, tossing Hermione's fork into the air and catching it. 'And then she took off.'

'Did she say where she's been?'

'France apparently,' replied Ron with raised eyebrows. 'I wonder if she's stayed with the Delacours. ' he added with a bitter laugh. He looked at Hermione right in the eyes and sighed deeply.

'Did she mention ...'

'Harry?' Ron's face twisted slightly as he said the name. 'No. Mum asked her of course but she said that she hasn't seen him and she doesn't want to talk about it.'

Hermione watched as Ron very carefully put the fork back on the table. She knew that Ginny's appearance must have dragged up what they had spent three years trying to forget. She knew what it cost him to say Harry's name and now she had to take this opportunity to tell him what she saw. She had opened her mouth when Ron spoke.

'What a mess,' he said quietly. Hermione walked over to him and draped her arm around his shoulders, resting her head against his neck. He grabbed her hand and sighed again.

'I miss her, though,' Hermione said quietly. 'I miss them both.' She felt Ron nod and closed her eyes. She could feel every breath that he took through her own ribcage and the soft circles that his fingers made on the back of her hand.

'_Oi!_' yelled the oven shrilly. Hermione leapt up and pulled open the oven door. Black smoke burst out and Ron began to cough loudly. Hermione grabbed the oven gloves and desperately wrenched her dinner out. The top layer of potato was completely black. Hermione flung the dish down on the worktop and looked up at the clock. It was nearly one o'clock. Ron yawned pointedly.

'Go to bed,' said Hermione, trying desperately not to sound impatient or bossy. 'Wednesdays are always busy; you're going to need your sleep.'

'But your dinner ...' protested Ron.

'I'll pick the black bits off,' said Hermione. She reached over for Ron's hand and kissed it quickly. 'Go on!'

'Goodnight then,' Ron waved as he backed out of the kitchen. Hermione picked up the oven gloves again so she could move the dish of Sheppard's pie onto the table. She got out a spoon and sat down, and began scooping the sections of burnt potato onto the plate – all the while counting the number of lies that she had told her boyfriend in the previous conversation.

...


	2. Chapter Two

...

'Hermione!'

Hermione sat up quickly, looking around her tiny office. The room had a tiny window and magical rain pattered onto the panes despite the fact that they were underground. Boxes and boxes of parchment covered every inch of carpet. Hermione's desk was Ernie sat at the desk opposite her looking impatient. 'You were asleep, again!'

'I was dreaming,' Hermione said, rubbing her eyes with the back of her hand. Ernie snorted.

'Sorry to disturb you,' he said edgily. 'What were you dreaming about?'

'Last night,' Hermione replied, resting her chin on cupped hands. 'I can't stop thinking about them.'

'Why didn't you come get me?' asked Ernie and Hermione noted a tone of annoyance.

'I don't know,' said Hermione honestly. 'You know when you hear someone whisper and you whisper back but you don't know why?' Ernie just frowned so she continued. 'It was like that. They were so secretive and quiet, I felt like I couldn't move. I just had to stand there and keep quiet.'

Ernie raised an eyebrow and Hermione sat down at her desk, looking down at the report which he had left there.

'You said that one of them looked at you?' persisted Ernie. 'So you saw his face then?' Hermione didn't look up. She couldn't lie to Ernie about discovering the body but she couldn't tell him that she had seen Harry Potter when she hadn't even told Ron.

'No, it was dark and he had a hood on.'

'But you saw the woman, you said she was blonde.'

Yeah but I didn't recognise her,' said Hermione truthfully. 'It's bizarre, they were talking about Death Eaters as if we were still in the middle of the War.'

'Yeah, that bit is odd,' said Ernie. 'There hasn't been so much as a whisper about Death Eater activity for the last two years now.'

'They looked like a hit squad,' mused Hermione.

'What?' The Muggle reference bemused Ernie and Hermione just shook her head dismissively.

'What gets me,' she said. 'is the way that Owen just brushed it aside. He wasn't interested at all once I told him about the silver diamond on their backs.'

'He's got a lot on his mind, has Cauldwell,' said Ernie. 'He's in a load of trouble about his nephew. Apparently, the boy's eighteen, comes in for an internship and manages to burn six Magical Law Enforcement offices down.'

'How on earth?'

'I've got no idea,' laughed Ernie. 'And neither did Owen Cauldwell Junior. But he got his namesake under investigation and started a family feud.'

'I remember that kid,' said Hermione, a smile forming. 'He was in Hufflepuff!' She pointed a finger at Ernie accusatorily. 'You taught him everything he knows!' Ernie stuttered in protest while Hermione laughed over her notes. 'Oh it's no use,' she exclaimed as she shifted through the rolls of parchment. 'I wasn't keeping any kind of order last night; I'll have to make it up.'

'Don't forget to put in all Frogworth's swearing,' chuckled Ernie as he sat down behind his desk. Hermione laughed.

'I'm going to go for a break actually,' she said. 'I might get some inspiration in the lift; do you want anything from upstairs?'

'Could you see if the trolley is going around, I quite fancy a couple of Pumpkin Pasties,' asked Ernie. 'Oh, and a liquorice wand, please!'

'I'll see what I can do,' laughed Hermione as she squeezed out of the office. A swarm of parchment memos flew over her head as she entered the corridor. In the rush of violet, Hermione noticed a flash of silver. Just in time she whipped her hand into the mass of flying parchment and her fingers closed around a squirming paper aeroplane. Both wings were stamped in silver ink with the same diamond that she had seen on the back of Harry and his companions' robes. Looking around guiltily, Hermione unfolded the parchment and read the scrawled message.

_We need the body. Today._

Hermione read these five words over and over again, wondering at its meaning. With her heart beating slightly faster she strode over to the lifts. Ernie could get his own Pumpkin Pasties_, _Hermione needed answers. Whatever this diamond meant, the Ministry knew about it, which meant that Kingsley Shacklebolt would.

...

Hermione knocked on the door, two sharp raps. A voice called for her to come in. She pushed the door open and walked into Kinglsey Shacklebolt's office. A large picture window seemed to look out onto a view of a park where the sun shone brightly. Hermione knew it to be pouring with rain outside – as well as through her office window – and wondered at the perks of being Minister for Magic.

Kingsley sat in a large armchair at a low table - his official desk covered with folders and papers. He smiled as Hermione came into the room. He appeared to be writing a letter which he quickly finished before tying it to the foot of a glaring great horned owl which was perched on the arm rest. Kingsley stood up to open a little door behind his desk, through which the owl flew into a chute which led to the street.

'For Minerva McGonagall,' he explained, gesturing for Hermione to take a seat opposite his armchair. 'Hot drink?' Hermione declined and Kingsley settled into his chair with a small cup of tea. 'So, what can I do for you, Hermione?'

'I was wondering,' began Hermione, fiddling with the edge of her robes. 'if you've seen – or heard from – Harry.' There was a silence, Kingsley took a sip of his tea and Hermione thought that she could hear the twitter of birds through the window.

'No,' said Kingsley, eventually. 'I have neither seen nor heard from Harry since he left the Burrow.' There was a pause as they both remembered Harry's face – cold and empty – as he strode out of the kitchen. 'Why do you ask?'

'I saw him last night,' admitted Hermione and it was as if someone had lifted a weight from her chest. 'When I saw the body outside the Mayfair office, he was there with two others, a woman and a man ... they were talking about Death Eaters and then Harry looked up at the balcony and saw me.' She looked at Kingsley expectantly, waiting for the reaction to her bombshell. Kingsley's features did not move. He took another sip of tea and sighed.

'I think it best that you try and forget this episode, Hermione,' he said calmly. 'Whatever Harry's doing, I think we should let him get on with it.'

'But he's back,' exclaimed Hermione eagerly. 'After all this time and he spoke to me!'

'Even so,' insisted Kingsley. 'I am sure that if he wished to make contact he would have gone to the Burrow to see you all. I think he wants to be left alone.'

'But Ginny came back yesterday,' continued Hermione, undeterred. 'That can't be a coincidence! I need to know what's going on.' Kingsley stood up abruptly. He walked over to the door and opened it – tea cup still in hand.

'I think you'd better forget about all of this,' he said, looking her right in the eye. 'Harry is probably long gone now, by any case.' Hermione stood up, understanding quite clearly that she was being dismissed. Kingsley smiled as she walked through the door.

'Will I see you at the Burrow for dinner on Friday?' he asked.

'No,' answered Hermione. 'Ron and I have plans. Maybe next week.'

'Definitely,' smiled Kingsley again, pushing the door to. Hermione was left standing outside while various Ministerial assistants bustled around her. She stood there for a few minutes, puzzling over Kingsley's words. Finally, she began to stroll towards the door that would lead her back to the Atrium when she heard Kingsley shouting from inside his office.

'Someone get Potter in here, now!'

Hermione turned around slowly, watching as a rather mousy witch hurried into Kingsley's office. So, she was being lied to. Slightly red with righteous anger, Hermione strode out into the Atrium, barrelling into people as she made for the lifts. In the middle of the vaulted hall, she collided with someone running in the opposite direction. The stranger nearly knocked her to the ground but caught her arm with his right hand. The wizard in black robes hauled her upwards but Hermione's eyes remained on the back of his hand. The words _I must not tell lies_ were scrawled across it; the lines of the letters were white scars.

Hermione looked up into the man's face but he turned away and wrenched his arm from her grasp. He continued to walk briskly in the opposite direction to the lifts. Hermione turned around, watching this figure dart between brightly robed Ministry workers. Then she broke into a run.

This man was making for Kingsley's office. He would walk in there and she would follow. Kingsley would be caught out and she would know why Harry was here. She followed the zig-zag that Harry made across the Atrium until she saw him disappear behind a small door to the left of the one which led to the Minister's office. She had always assumed that that door led to a broom cupboard – the caretakers had always come from that room with brooms and buckets. She wrenched open the door, half expecting Harry to be hiding from her between the brooms. Instead, Hermione found a staircase, old and abandoned, though in a small alcove under the stairs, there were indeed a collection of mops, brooms and buckets.

Hermione could hear running above her and took off up the stairs. Each step creaked under her weight and Hermione knew that Harry would hear his pursuer. Her muscles were tight and her breath heavy as she ran up flight after flight, until she heard a door slam above her. She ran faster then, taking the steps two at a time. She was desperate not to lose him.

Hermione reached a large metal door which greatly resembled that of a Muggle fire escape. She pushed it open and found that it led out into an empty alley way. The door clanged shut behind her and when she turned Hermione found that there was indeed a neon sign above it that declared it a fire exit. The alley appeared to be deserted but Hermione could hear the roaring of traffic to the left. There was no way of telling which way Harry had gone.

Hermione stood there panting, infuriated. Then she noticed that a man stood at the end of the alleyway to her right. He was a young Muggle, dressed in a tracksuit and a t-shirt. He was staring down the alley, hands deep in his pockets, at the high street it led to.

'Excuse me,' called Hermione as she began to walk towards him. 'Have you seen a man go by here?' The man stared at her, eyes wide, but he didn't say anything. Hermione looked over her shoulder and then back at him. Something about this man unnerved her. 'He would have been dressed in black, probably running?'

Again there was no response. The man's eyes were moving wildly in his skull from Hermione's face to the road behind her, to the door she had come out of, back to her face. It struck Hermione that he might be scared of her because of her strange attire and the fact she had just come barrelling out of a fire exit which he probably couldn't see.

'It's alright, sir,' Hermione said. 'I just want to know if you've seen the man I'm looking for.' There was silence again and Hermione noticed that the man was beginning to crouch backwards, pushing one shoulder back in a defensive position. Then she heard footsteps behind her.

'You alright, love?' Hermione turned to see a middle aged man strolling down the alleyway, beer can in hand. He eyed the silent man suspiciously. 'No trouble?'

'I'm fine, thanks,' Hermione answered with a smile, turning back around. The young man's eyes were now fixed on the newcomer to the alleyway. Hermione looked between the two. The younger one's brow contracted as he began to draw something from his pocket.

Hermione's jaw dropped open when he drew out a wand. She was too slow; her hand was in the pocket of her robes, her fingers just brushing her wand when the man screamed his spell. Green light shot from his wand and Hermione could almost feel a rush of wind as the curse swept past her, hitting the middle aged Muggle in the chest.

He only managed half a shout of surprise before his eyes bulged in his head and his body crumpled. He hit the ground with a deafening crash, his head smashing against the cobbles. Hermione whipped around, her wand out, to face the attacker...

'_Stupefy!_'

The red jet of light missed the young man by less than an inch. He threw himself into the brick wall to avoid a second spell as Hermione turned around. Harry Potter was running towards her followed by a man and a woman, both cloaked and hooded. She couldn't see their faces but she recognised the pale hand of the blonde woman from the night before. Hermione ducked as they sent spells towards the young wizard in Muggle clothes. She felt arms wrap around her shoulders and guide her towards the high street.

'Come on!' she heard Harry yell. 'You've got to get out of here.' He released her and they were running together down the alleyway. Hermione looked over her shoulder to see that another person had joined the fight, also cloaked in black. Her stomach dropped as she saw a flash of green light and she ran faster. Hermione and Harry broke out onto the high street, panting, but he didn't stop. He set off again, dragging her along by the hand.

'Who is he?' shouted Hermione as he backed up, pushing her in front of him as they ran.

'Doesn't matter,' Harry answered from behind her. 'Keep running!' Hermione heard a scream. Her lungs were begging for air as she pushed on, running as fast as she could. Then she suddenly realised that she could no longer hear Harry's footfalls behind her. She stopped and stared around. She was still on the high street, still being buffeted by ordinary shoppers but Harry was nowhere to be seen.

'Bastard,' Hermione muttered under her breath. She began to run again, slower this time, but back towards the alleyway. People were giving her suspicious looks, her violet robes standing out on the inner-city shopping street. She was nearing the alleyway when she saw Harry standing at a pedestrian crossing, alone with his hands in the pockets of his robes. He was watching three people coming towards him: two cloaked in black and the other unconscious, dressed in Muggle clothes and hanging off his capturers' shoulders. They joined Harry on the pavement, ignoring the people who ogled at them as they passed by. Harry nodded to his companions and started to turn on the spot. Hermione broke from her reverie.

'HARRY!' she screamed as the small group all vanished with a _crack_.


	3. Chapter Three

...

Hermione pushed open the front door and threw her briefcase into the alcove under the stairs. The house was deliciously warm after the frosty October air. The distinct smell of roast chicken was wafting into the hall and Hermione could hear Ron swearing. She walked through the sitting room to stand in the kitchen doorway.

'You alright?' smiled Ron, apron clad and hoisting a tray of potatoes from the oven.

'Not really,' said Hermione, running a hand over her face. The opportunity to do the right thing hung there for a second and then she opened her mouth. 'I've got to back into work actually; I've got to get this project finished.'

'What?' exclaimed Ron. He stood agog at the stove, still holding the tray of potatoes with only a tea towel. 'Can't they get someone else to do it?'

'Apparently not,' said Hermione, trying to look apologetic. 'You need to use oven gloves by the way,' Ron ignored her, simply dropping the tray onto the hob with a clatter.

'Bollocks,' he said angrily. 'I've made you a bloody roast dinner and everything.'

'Yeah, I know,' said Hermione. She put her hand on Ron's shoulder and rubbed it affectionately. 'Sorry.'

'What are you sorry for?' he said, his brow suddenly furrowed. 'It's not your fault. You're the one who's got to go back to work.' He wrapped his arms around Hermione and she buried her face in his shirt. She wanted to tell him about the previous night but the words were bumping against her closed lips; she didn't think that Ron would understand how delicately this had to be handled. There was a subtle web of lies and secrecy that was woven around Harry's reappearance and she knew that Ron would simply barrel in like a bull in a china shop. Harry and his cloaked gang would be scared off and Hermione realised now that she desperately needed to see Harry and to understand.

'I'd better go,' she mumbled into Ron's chest. She looked up and kissed him quickly, guilt colouring all the sensations of his lips on hers. 'See you in the morning!' she said quietly as she walked back out of the kitchen. She grabbed a thick travelling cloak as she went through the hall and wrapped it around herself as she strode purposefully through the garden. Once she had passed the gate, Hermione turned on the spot and stepped into the rushing wind that would transport her into the centre of London.

...

Hermione stood opposite the door marked fire exit, wrapped in her cloak yet shivering desperately. She had been there for nearly three hours and not a soul had walked down the alley or come out of the door. Hermione had taken to watching a small ladybird crawling across the brickwork beside the fire exit. Hermione briefly wondered if she had imagined hearing that ladybirds hibernated during winter. Then she turned her attention back to the door. Nothing continued to happen for around half an hour and then Hermione, sick of the cold and the boredom, decided to change tack.

She walked to the end of the alley way, running her eyes along the high street. It was close to midnight and the street was a mixture of late-night revellers and theatre goers desperately hailing cabs. She walked back to the fire exit, gave it one last push, just to be sure, and with a sigh, turned on the spot and Apparated.

Hermione's feet hit the shiny Atrium floor. She was standing beside the gold phoenix fountain that stood in the middle of the hall, looking around at the deserted Atrium. The wizard behind the security desk was asleep, with his feet up beside his wand scales. A small crinkled wizard was slowly making his way across the Atrium with a bucket, a mop dancing along the floor by his side. Occasionally, his wand arm would go slack and the mop would drop to the floor with a clatter, stirring him into life again. Even the water spurting from the phoenix's beak seemed to fall through the air in slow motion.

Hermione looked up at the royal blue ceiling, studying the gold symbols that flitted across it without really looking. She had run out of ideas and she was sick of sitting and waiting for them to step across her path. Hermione watched as a witch pushed the food trolley in the wake of the cleaner. She noticed that the top shelf was completely bare and the witch was pushing only empty pale pink cardboard boxes over to the lifts. Each box was stamped with the name of a department; they had contained the coffee and breakfast package that would sit in every office, covered by an insulating charm and ready for groggy morning workers. Hermione's stomach jumped when she noticed that one box was marked only by a silver diamond; it was unopened. She ran after the woman who had just reached the lifts.

'How are you, Doris?' she asked with a wide smile, eyes on the box.

'I'm alright dear,' answered the little trolley lady. 'Just one more to go now, all the way down to Level Nine and then I'm off home.'

'Well, I'm off down there myself,' said Hermione, hoping her desperation didn't show on her face. 'Why don't I take it down there and save you the bother.'

'Oh no, dearie,' protested Doris. 'I wouldn't dream of letting you; I bet you're very busy!'

'Not at all,' insisted Hermione. 'I'm just off to fetch a report on ...' she trailed off. 'Something, I don't really understand to be honest. Typical Department of Mysteries!' She already had her hands around the box.

'Oh alright then,' said Doris, her wrinkled face bright with her grateful smile. 'Do you know where to put it back? Just through that door there, under the stairs.' She pointed towards the door through which Hermione had chased Harry that very morning.

'Of course,' said Hermione with an odd smile. She walked into the lift and the golden grille closed behind her. She watched the old lady push her trolley towards the supposed broom cupboard as the floor rose upwards and the lift sank down into the depths of the Ministry. Her heart was pounding and she could feel a cold sweat on her back as the cool voice announced that they had reached Level Nine.

The golden grilles slid open noiselessly and Hermione stepped out into a long dark corridor, lit only by flaming torches. At the other end of the corridor Hermione could see a plain black door. She knew that behind that door there lay a circular room. She could still see the candles with blue flames, the handle-less doors and the spinning walls, as if their escapade five years ago was yesterday.

Hermione strode down the corridor, trying to be purposeful when she had no idea of the direction that should be taken. It was then that she realised that she was scared. She could see the steam from her breath rising in front of her and she was suddenly terrified. She drew her wand slowly, hugging the cardboard box to her chest. The door was getting closer and Hermione began to think that the corridor was getting narrower.

A loud grating noise made her hug the box tighter, probably crushing the contents. She looked to her right, from where the ominous sound was coming. The stones in the wall were pulling apart from each other, creating a crack from ceiling to floor. The crack widened and Hermione peered through it. She could only see darkness on the other side. Finally, the noise ceased and Hermione stood before a stone doorway which appeared to lead into a pitch black corridor; Hermione could just about see a light in the distance. She put her hand onto the stone work and took a step over the threshold. As she did this, there were several loud _pops_ and she jumped backwards. About sixty lit candles had appeared on the other side of the crack, floating along the walls of a long stone corridor. At the other end was a round door, which looked like the door to a safe. It was open and Hermione could hear the low hum of voices.

Hermione started to walk down the corridor, wincing at how loudly her boots clicked on the stone floor. She took deep breaths, trying to steady her heartbeat. The voices went quiet and Hermione's stomach dropped again. There was no mistake, they knew she was here; they were inviting her in. She reached the metal door which stood ajar and slipped through.

Hermione's eyes were drawn upwards instantly. The room she had stepped into was enormous. The ceiling rose three stories high, making a circular stone cavern. But Hermione was dazzled by the cylinder that was carved into the centre of the ceiling; it was immensely long and lined with a metal that shimmered with a golden haze and at the very top, a circle of gold covered the hole.

The golden circle sent glistening beams of light downwards, lighting up the circular room, the contents of which Hermione had only just noticed. She was on the lowest level, desks were scattered without pattern across the room, intermingled with magical plants which swayed in a breeze which didn't exist nine stories underground. A raised dais held a long wooden table, papers scattered across it. Other metal doors and two rickety staircases led off from this central hall but Hermione had just noticed the presence of other people.

A man with dark hair sat with his back to Hermione, up on the dais. To her left, Hermione saw a blonde woman sitting at a desk, square glasses on her face, head buried in a book. The woman didn't look up as Hermione passed by, heading for the stairs which led up to the wooden table. Hermione held the breakfast box in one hand and her wand in the other as she climbed the steps.

Harry sat at the wooden table to Hermione's right and again, he did not react when she passed by. At another desk a man with pale blonde hair held up a piece of parchment in the air, pretending to read from it but in fact shielding his face from view.

Hermione heard a large grandfather clock which stood beside the blond man's desk count the seconds as she stood in the centre of the dais, still holding the pink box in her hands. Her eyes were always on Harry, who refused to look up. Then there was a sudden laugh and Hermione swung around to see the blonde man throw down his parchment and stand up.

'Alright, alright,' he said, still laughing with both hands in the air. 'I lose; the drinks are on me tonight.'

His laughter was echoed all around the room and Hermione turned slowly on the spot as the other two got up from their seats. The blonde woman climbed the stairs to stand at Hermione's back. Hermione felt like she had been cornered, trapped. She looked at Harry who stood with his hands in the pockets of blue suit trousers, looking at her with an odd smile on his face. Hermione took this time to study his face. Harry had changed his hair – it still stuck up at the back but it appeared that he had worked out how to keep it down at the front, hiding his scar. His skin seemed paler, his stance more nonchalant and manly but he still wore the same round glasses. They looked strange on what Hermione saw as a stranger's face.

'I should go,' she said. Harry's smiled dropped slightly.

'I think it's a bit late for that,'

Hermione swallowed as she looked around again. The sheer scale of the room amazed her. How was it possible for this to exist? Everybody was crammed in elbow to elbow in the rest of the Ministry and three people had this whole space all to themselves?

'I think I'd better introduce you to everyone,' said Harry. He walked towards her and gently tugged the box from her grasp. Hermione's eyes ran quickly over the other two people in the room. She found it odd that they both wore Muggle clothing; the woman a dark blue dress and the man jeans and a black t-shirt. Harry put the box down on the table and nodded his head towards the blonde man. 'You know Draco, of course.'

Hermione's mouth fell open as she looked over. Now that Harry had named him she could see who he was straight away but she wouldn't have been able to guess his name a few seconds before. Draco had cut his hair and had grown into his features since the Battle of Hogwarts but there were different, more drastic, changes in his face. He seemed more light-hearted – Hermione could certainly still see arrogance – but his eyes had laughter in them, a kind of laughter she had never seen in him before – that of a good joke among friends and not the petty humour found in tormenting others. He was smiling wryly at her discomfort as she gaped at him.

'Healer Draco Malfoy, thank you very much,' he corrected finally, sitting back down. Hermione felt his eyes on her as she turned to the blonde woman who was now at her side.

'Astoria Greengrass,' said Harry. 'Herbologist and spell-craft expert.'

'Hello,' said Astoria with a small smile. Hermione tried to smile back but she found the muscles in her face weren't functioning very well. She turned away from Astoria as she heard a door creak open.

'And you know who this is,' said Harry, his eyes on the door as a young woman with a wave of ginger hair walked into the room with a tray of coffee cups. She looked around the room, obviously confused by the tension and then her eyes dropped onto Hermione and opened wide. Hermione watched open-mouthed as Ginny Weasley's gaze flitted automatically to Harry. Hermione didn't want to close her eyes in case Ginny disappeared.

'I didn't know she would ...' Ginny trailed off, deliberately avoiding Hermione's stare.

'We made a decision,' said Harry in an offhand manner. 'You weren't in the room,' And then, as an afterthought, 'Sorry.' Ginny nodded and walked past him to put the tray down on the table. Hermione counted the four coffee cups; they were a team.

'What is this?' Hermione asked.

'We're an independent agency – beyond the control of the Ministry - solely dedicated to crushing the Death Eater movement and protecting both the wizarding and Muggle communities from their actions,' Harry's tone was business-like and detached.

'But the Death Eaters are gone,' said Hermione, slipping into a panicked tone. She heard Draco Malfoy sigh loudly from behind his work. Harry looked at her a little sadly and shook his head. 'What happened to that wizard this morning, the one who killed that Muggle?' asked Hermione.

'He's in there,' said Draco Malfoy pointing at two doors down from the one Ginny had emerged from. 'He's dead.' He didn't even look up from his work as he said the words.

'Did you kill him?'

'No,' said Harry firmly. 'He died in the struggle in the alleyway – we're not executioners.' Hermione swallowed again, her throat was desperately dry. She didn't know who this man was.

'What about the Muggle?'

'We planted memories in the people walking by the alley,' said Draco, again without looking at her. 'They told the police that they saw Mr Roberts suffering a heart attack on the high street before medical help could arrive. A few more memory charms and the ambulance crew remember pronouncing him dead on arrival and sending him down to the morgue.'

'You can't do that,' murmured Hermione. 'You're not Ministry-approved Obliviators.'

'We did, we're under no obligation to inform the Ministry,' said Harry, watching the space between Hermione and Draco Malfoy.

'But that man was killed,' protested Hermione, her face reddening. 'It's an insult to his memory to pretend that ...'

'Insulting memories rather goes with the territory, Granger,' interrupted Draco, finally putting down the parchment. 'The Death Eater that killed him is dead; if he wasn't? Well, we're hardly going to walk him into court, are we? We're supposed to be underground. So the best thing, for everyone - ' he was looking down at his desk again '- is a few simple memory charms.'

Hermione started to walk backwards, her heart pounding. She couldn't wrap her head around the fact that these four people had to power to manipulate wizards and Muggles with no deference to anyone.

'Watch out!' Astoria grabbed hold of Hermione's arm. Hermione looked behind her; she was right on the edge of the dais. 'It doesn't look far,' said Astoria, removing her hand. 'but you'd give yourself a few bruises if you fell.'

Hermione smiled in thanks, highly self-conscious of her chest rising and falling quickly as her heart rate soared. Harry sighed and grabbed a cloak from a coat stand that stood next to Hermione.

'Come on,' he said, and he grabbed the top of her arm. 'Let's go get a drink.'

...

'So, what do you want to know?' asked Harry, settling a Firewhiskey down on the table in front of Hermione.

'The list is endless,' said Hermione, with a deliberate edge to her voice. 'Where are we?'

'The Lufkin Arms,' answered Harry. 'It's quiet, discreet and named after the first witch to ...'

'Be Minister of Magic,' Hermione finished automatically. 'I know.'

'Astoria likes a revolutionist,' Harry smiled. Hermione just looked at him. How could he know this woman so well when he hadn't known her for half that time that he had known Hermione, Ron and the Weasleys. He'd just walked away from them, without an explanation, to hook up with Daphne Greengrass's little sister and Draco Malfoy?

'Bet she loves you then,' she remarked, drily. Harry shook his head with a small laugh.

'You and Ginny?' she asked. Harry shook his head again, the laughter gone.

'No,' said Harry. 'I saw her five months ago - for the first time since that afternoon. She wanted a job.'

'How did she know there was a job to be had?'

'I told her what I was doing before I left.' Hermione's mouth fell open.

'So she knew, about this?'

'Not this exactly,' said Harry, again he sighed in a way that Hermione had never heard before. 'I knew what I needed to do but I hardly had a crack team and a secret base.'

'Yeah, what's with that?' said Hermione, taking a long drink.

'I ran it past Kingsley around a year and a half ago,' replied Harry. 'He understood what I was sure of by then; if we were going to crush the Death Eaters – and I mean really finish them – we had to be covert, undercover, unanswerable to anyone – like they are. In the end, he gave me the space and the .. uh .. finances ... and then I recruited Astoria and then Draco and like I said, a few months ago Ginny joined us.'

'And may I ask, why on earth you would take Malfoy?' asked Hermione in clipped tones, slowly and deliberately setting her glass down on the table. 'And since when do you call him Draco?'

'I knew I'd get a hard time over that,' said Harry with a smile. 'I hired Draco because he's a good Healer, he's got inside knowledge on Death Eaters, he's handy for undercover work and he's dedicated to the cause.' Hermione grasped the table and leaned over it, whispering through gritted teeth.

'But how do you know that? You can't trust him, what on earth makes you think that he's changed?'

'That's Draco's business,' said Harry sharply, before taking a swig of his Butterbeer. 'I'll answer your questions about me because ... you deserve answers from me but ...'

'Do you know who else deserves answers?' snapped Hermione. She leant forward across the table. The warm air seemed to quiver as she hissed the name viciously; 'Ron.' Harry's face hardened instantly. Neither of them moved and it occurred to Hermione that if the blatant hostility was removed from their stares, people might assume they were a couple. Then she thought that the hostility might contribute to that assumption.

'You can't tell him,' said Harry finally. His face was stone like as he surveyed her.

'Just watch me,' snarled Hermione. She pushed herself up from the table and headed to the door. She shivered as she walked out onto the street, suddenly realising that she had forgotten her cloak.

'Here,' Harry was standing in the doorway, holding out a brown bundle. Hermione snatched it from him and Harry sighed for the umpteenth time that evening. 'You do realise I'm not going to let you do this,' he said in a tired voice.

'You can't stop me, Harry,' Hermione retorted, backing away. She felt in the pocket of her robes for her wand. 'You might be the boss of everyone from Kingsley down, but _not me_!' He took one more step towards her and Hermione turned abruptly, throwing herself into nothing.

She landed rather inelegantly in her haste. She was also a lot further from the gate from usual. Hermione picked up her robes and ran through the grass to the path that led up to the brown picket fence. Then many things happened at once. A loud _crack_ sounded, Hermione screamed at the top of her lungs, two strong hands seized her upper arms and a light came on in an upstairs window.

'You know it would hurt him too much,' whispered Harry. Hermione slammed her foot into his shin but it was as effective as kicking a rock and she remained in his grip. He clamped his fingers over her lips. 'So keep quiet.' They stood just behind the garden hedge. Hermione imagined Ron peering out from behind the curtains; would he be able to see the top of Harry's head? It appeared that he could not; the pale glow on the grass disappeared and Hermione let out the breath she was holding. She felt incredibly disconcerted that the overwhelming feeling was one of relief that Ron had not spotted them. Harry released her and Hermione stood on the grass, cradling her own arms.

'If you had really wanted him to know, you would have told him about last night,' said Harry in hushed tones. 'I've been foolish so far; I should have done this when -' Hermione knocked him aside as she dashed for the garden gate. She had been waiting for him to fall into the easy trap of talking it all through reasonably. She was not going to be reasonable and she did not want to find out what _this_ was. Harry's ominous words woke an inexplicable fear in her. She fumbled with the latch before slamming the gate behind her. She heard Harry skidding into the gate, unable to slow down in time.

Hermione felt a seam rip in her robes as she pulled her wand out and touched it to the door knocker. She called the password hastily and tried to slip through the door but Harry was faster than her. As a hand grasped the back of her robes, Hermione used her elbow to try to slam the door closed; the fight was too close and fast to aim with her wand. She heard the wood connect with Harry's face and he swore loudly.

Hermione knew now what Harry wanted to do and so when she did aim her wand through the gap she had no qualms about the strength of spells she used. Jets of red light flew from her wand followed by Full Body Bind jinxes. She could not see Harry and so shot at random, growing increasingly disturbed by the silence. Finally, she closed the door slowly, wondering if he was unconscious on the doorstep but not daring to look. She sealed the door and backed into the sitting room.

'Hermione,' She spun around to see Harry standing beside the sofa; she gaped at him in horror before raising her wand.

'Ron didn't lock the back door,' said Harry, his face was apologetic but still retained that hardness.

'Leave me alone,' Hermione said, ignoring her trembling limbs as she aimed her wand into his face.

'I can't do that,' replied Harry, drawing out his wand. 'I should have done this when I saw you on the balcony last night. I should have stuck to my own rules.'

'If you take one more step,' snarled Hermione, jabbing her wand forwards. 'I will curse you.'

'No, you won't,' said Harry, shaking his head. He moved forward, holding onto the sofa.

'_Stupefy_!' shrieked Hermione. Harry threw himself to the right and the spell hit the wallpaper behind him. Hermione wondered briefly why he had not used a Shield Charm but she did not ponder for long. As soon as Harry hit the floor, Hermione flew from the room; she ran through the hall into the dining room and slammed the door closed.

'_Colloportus_!' Hermione whispered and the door sealed with a squelching noise. Her footsteps seemed incredibly loud as she crossed the room and opened a cabinet, searching for a quill and parchment. A box of old letters spilt across the floor as she tore a piece of parchment from a roll. She could hear Harry banging on the door and calling to her softly but she did not stop to listen. A bottle of ink stood on the desk; the wood was stained as Hermione thrust the quill into the ink.

'Hermione, this is pointless!' called Harry through the door. Loud cracks told Hermione that he was trying different counter spells on the door. She scoffed as she wrote; he was head of a secret Dark-wizard-fighting agency and he didn't know how to break into a sealed room. Hermione's hand shook as she scrawled on the parchment.

_Harry. Death Eaters, Malfoy Greengrass Ginny. Department of Mysteries. Secret team. Kingsley knows. Fighting death eaters, dead man on the street. Balcony. Fire escape, stairs, fountain, secret corri –_

There was a crash which seemed to shake the foundations of the house. Hermione scribbled one last shape onto the scrap of parchment as the door swung open. Hermione turned around, her wand out and the parchment behind her back. She wondered why Ron had not woken. Harry was faster than she anticipated; he slashed his wand in the air and Hermione's arms snapped to her sides, while her legs followed suit in a Fully Body Bind Curse. In a few strides, Harry was at her side, catching her before she fell to the floor and he tore the parchment from her hand.

'You shouldn't have seen us,' he whispered. 'I'm sorry,' Hermione swallowed against the hard lump in her throat. She was no longer included in the 'us' which had once meant her, Ron and Harry. Now, 'us' meant Draco Malfoy and Astoria Greengrass. With a flick of his wand he released her from the curse and Hermione staggered sideways. Her heart was fluttering like a bird's wing as Harry lit the parchment with a flame from the end of his wand. Hermione's notes burnt up and twisted through the air until a pile of ashes lay on the carpet. Hermione clenched her fists as she watched in horror and then her right wrist was twisted upwards and her wand flew from her hand. Harry caught it deftly and put it in the pocket of his robes before turning his own to Hermione.

Without hesitating, Hermione dived sideways. She was wandless but she did not intend to give up. She had moved at the exact moment that Harry had sent a jet of bluish green light towards her. Scrambling behind the dining table, Hermione's head collided with a chair leg, tears coming to her eyes. Harry's hand closed over her shoulder and he pulled her upwards. Hermione launched her foot backwards, again kicking his shin. This time Harry grunted in pain and shoved her forward onto an old settee beside the desk.

Harry raised his wand again and as bluish light erupted from the end of it, Hermione shoved her hand between the cushions of the settee, unclenched her fist and drew her arm up again. Then everything went black.

...


	4. Chapter Four

...

'Hermione?'

A warm hand rubbed Hermione's shoulder. She stirred slightly, every muscle in her body seemed to ache. Whatever she was lying on was lumpy and yet too soft; she groaned quietly. Someone called her name again and Hermione pushed her eyelids open, even though they felt like they were glued together. Ron was crouched by her head, holding a steaming mug. Hermione tried to push herself into a sitting position but her stomach lurched and her head was filled with a penetrating pain.

'I'm going to be sick,' she mumbled from behind her hand. Ron chuckled too loudly and she winced.

'That's what happens when you down a whole bottle,' he teased, pushing a cup of coffee into her hand. 'You don't make it up to bed.' Finally, Hermione opened her eyes. She was stretched out on the small, lumpy settee in the dining room while rain pattered against the window panes. An empty bottle of Firewhiskey was on the desk beside her and by Ron's foot, there was a glass.

'Was Ernie really that bad?' asked Ron and Hermione was annoyed by his amused grin.

'He must have been,' groaned Hermione. 'My head ...' Ron nudged her hands and she took a gulp of the coffee. 'What time is it?' she asked after swallowing.

'Quarter to two,' answered Ron, standing up. 'I've just got back from the morning shift -' Hermione jumped to her feet, spilling coffee on the carpet. '- I thought you'd be up!' called Ron as she ran from the room and up the stairs.

...

'You look like death,'

'Thank you, Ernie,' Hermione said with a grimace. 'Really helpful.' She dropped down behind her desk, holding her head in her hands.

'Night on the town?' asked Ernie and Hermione could imagine the grin twitching at the corners of his mouth.

'I wouldn't know if I had _gone out on the town_,' Hermione answered. 'I can't remember a thing.' Ernie laughed before sending a ball of parchment into the wastepaper bin by the door. 'It appears that I knocked a few back at home and then fell asleep on the sofa.'

'Has Ron got you hooked on drinking games now?'

'No, he was asleep.'

'Oh,' said Ernie, in a rather prim voice, emulating disapproval.

'I don't make a habit of drowning my sorrows in a bottle on my own,' said Hermione, sitting up. 'It was a one off, alright?'

'I didn't say anything!' protested Ernie, getting up. 'I'm getting myself a snack from the trolley; do you want anything?'

'Yeah, someone new to share my office with and a Pumpkin Pasty,' Hermione said, dropping her head back into her hands.

'I'll excuse you because you're cranky today,' said Ernie. 'At least when I offer to bring you a Pumpkin Pasty, I don't then disappear for two hours.'

'What?' said Hermione but Ernie was already gone.

...

Hermione stood at the back of a lift that was crammed with Ministry workers finishing for the day. There was a distinct smell of rotten eggs and Hermione suspected a rather dishevelled looking witch from the Department of Magical Accidents and Catastrophes whose handbag was emitting a thick blue smoke. When the lift shuddered to a halt and the grilles opened, the mob poured out into the Atrium which was also full of wizards and witches determined to get to the emerald fireplaces as quickly as possible.

'We request that you use the Floo Network to return home this afternoon,' called a calm female voice from the blue ceiling. 'There has been a security problem which has required us to restrict the ability to Apparate. Thank you for your cooperation.'

As the announcement began again for the benefit of new arrivals, Hermione joined the queue for the closest fireplace behind a tall wizard who she recognised from the Magical Law Enforcement Squad. He smiled widely at her even though she could never remember a previous conversation. Hermione smiled back regardless and the wizard seemed encouraged as he turned around.

'He turned out to be a wizard in the end,' he remarked as if this was a completely understandable remark to make to a complete stranger. Hermione frowned at him.

'Who did?' she asked.

'The body outside the Mayfair offices,' said the wizard, frowning back at her. As Hermione continued to stare at him quizzically, he added, 'The body that you found two nights ago?'

'I think you've got me confused with someone else,' said Hermione, peering around him to see how many people were still in the queue for the fireplace. 'I didn't find a body.'

'But you gave me your name and address,' protested the wizard. 'Hermione Granger, Limefire House, Copythorne – it's definitely you.' Hermione shook her head.

'There's been a mistake,' she stammered. 'I don't know what you're talking about.'

'But you must remember,' insisted the wizard incredulously. 'You made me write down all that stuff about the three people in cloaks with diamonds on their backs – two men and a blonde woman. I remember it all.' There was no one in front of them now and Ministry workers in the queue behind them were huffing in impatience. The Magical Law Enforcement Squad wizard didn't seem to hear them as he stood in front of the empty fireplace, staring at Hermione expectantly.

'I really think you're quite confused,' she said, pushing past him. 'Excuse me.' She stepped into the emerald flames, whispered the address that the wizard had just repeated to her and was whisked home.

...

'All gone off! Every single box! And the whole place stank, it was disgusting – I was nearly sick. Lee had to bag them all up from a distance but how he even stood in the room beats me. I wouldn't have had to concentration to levitate six hundred putrid Canary Creams when...'

Hermione stared into the distance, studying the pattern of the wallpaper in the dining room. Ron's voice was a comforting hum and Hermione's every movement was robotic as she lifted food from the plate balanced on her knees into her mouth. A nod every thirty seconds seemed enough to maintain Ron's rant while Hermione replayed the words of the wizard from the Magical Law Enforcement Squad.

_But you must remember_

Suddenly, there were peas everywhere. Hermione's head snapped back to Ron as it became obvious that one of his more enthusiastic hand gestures had sent his plate flying upwards – he had caught it in time to save the more adhesive mashed potato and sausages but the peas were all over the settee. Hermione sighed with what she knew was overdone martyrdom as Ron apologised profusely.

'I'll go and get a cloth!' he offered, hurrying off through the hall to the kitchen. Hermione's head was throbbing too much for her to bother telling him that a cloth was hardly going to be helpful in locating all the peas that had fallen into the crevices of the settee.

She put her plate up on the desk beside her and pulled the settee cushions right out – revealing scattered peas, a Puking Pastille, a cracked Sneakoscope and a screwed up piece of parchment. Hermione gathered the peas into a pile with her wand, scooped them up and threw them in the bin under the desk, followed by the Pastille and Sneakoscope. She opened up the piece of parchment as she held it over the bin. A small diamond shape had been scratched on to the parchment followed by the word: _Remember_

Ron came back into the room wielding a dish cloth and Hermione shoved the piece of parchment into the pocket of her robes. A faint whistling was emitted from the bin as she got up and allowed Ron to push the settee cushions back into place, staring down at the diamond.

...

Hermione gazed up at the ceiling as Ron snored beside her, despite previous complaints of an unbearable buzzing in his ears. The curtains weren't quite thick enough and so pale moonlight flooded into the room, casting odd shadows onto the plaster. As Hermione's eyelids drooped she thought she saw a diamond flicker across the ceiling. She rolled over so that her back faced Ron and stared at the curtains, hoping that the light would keep her awake. She had an overwhelming feeling in the pit of her stomach that something was very wrong. Her eyes closed again and Hermione thought she was standing on a balcony, looking down at the street.

Hermione sat up suddenly. She needed to get to the Mayfair offices. Specifically, she needed to stand on the balcony by the conference room. She had an inexplicable certainty that she had to be there. Hermione got up and gathered her clothes from the floor and left the bedroom, not looking back as she closed the door.

...


	5. Chapter Five

...

Hermione landed outside the Mayfair offices' entrance; an abandoned hairdresser's shop stood between a small café and a music shop. Hermione looked around the deserted street before pulling out her wand and touching it to the door of the hairdressers. The door swung open and Hermione stepped into a marble floored reception area.

The reception desk was unmanned and the chandelier that normally bathed the room in a warm glow was not lit. Hermione immediately made for the staircase; she ran up the first flight of stairs and down the corridor that led to the conference room with the balcony. Until she stood at the doors of the conference room and frowned at the light leaking out onto the carpet and the muttering that floated into the corridor, Hermione had not questioned her actions. Since she had left the house, she had allowed herself to be guided by her deepest instinct – not looking too closely at her reasons for choosing the paths that she did.

Now, apprehension and fear had overtaken her as she struggled to find importance in this place. The voice also scared her. She was sure that it was one voice and there was never an answer to the wild murmurings. Hermione tried to remind herself that she had faced the full might of Voldemort's army at only eighteen – she should not fear one man, alone in a room.

Despite this, Hermione's throat was tight as she pushed open the door. The murmuring stopped instantly. A man stood at the head of the conference table, his face glowing strangely in the light from a series of oil lamps on the table. Hermione pointed her wand at him as she crossed the threshold and he laughed loudly.

'Are you going to kill me, Granger?' Hermione could not help her mouth falling slightly open as she recognised Jacob Simmons leering at her from across the room.

'What are you doing here?' Hermione gasped, staring at the snarky assistant to a member of the Wizengamot.

'I was going to ask you the same thing,' said Simmons, flourishing his wand. His sleeve fell down as he did so, revealing the shadow of a green skull and snake on his forearm. Simmons followed Hermione's gaze as she stared at it. 'Do you recognise the Death Eater mark?' Hermione didn't answer him, her head was pounding as she tried desperately piece together the images that were flitting through her head. She could remember being in this room, sitting in that seat there. The doors to the balcony were just behind Simmons. She remembered opening them.

'The Diamond Club have ditched you, Granger,' sneered Simmons. Hermione felt for that piece of parchment in her pocket, her head still spinning. 'And now you don't understand, do you?' He laughed again. Hermione pulled the parchment out of her pocket and looked down at it for a second. _Remember_.

'Let me – uh – refresh your ... memory,' he smiled gleefully. 'You saw a dead man, on the pavement outside.'

Hermione gasped because she had seen a dead man. She had seen a dead man laid out in the middle of the road. How could she have forgotten that? And she also saw ...

'Along with a little gang all dressed in black,' laughed Simmons. 'led by Harry Potter.' He spat the last word venomously. 'I hate him!' he screamed and Hermione flinched. She wanted to run but she was frozen, the excruciating pain in her head paralysing her. Her wand hand twitched as Simmons' face twisted in rage but she also felt an irresistible temptation to hear Simmons out, to finally know the truth. She could see Harry's face now; she saw a corridor lit by candles, she saw a blonde woman with a hand on her, Hermione's, shoulder.

'I'm going to help them,' Simmons whispered and Hermione's skin crawled. 'I'm going to help them destroy him. I killed that traitor; the body on the street ... you saw him half an hour after I'd finished with him.'

'You were late,' mumbled Hermione. She willed her head to split in two; it was going to happen eventually.

'Yes, well done, I was late,' smiled Simmons. 'Carl Purvis – I told them he was a liar. He wouldn't let them do this!' Simmons shoved his arm outwards so that the light caught the intricacies of his Dark Mark. 'He said he needed to keep his cover, truth was he was never one of us. He was in it for the money and he screwed Quill over!'

Hermione didn't know who Quill was but she could hear a man's voice in her head. _'Death Eater. I'm sure as hell._'

'And so Quill gets killed by those blonde freaks and _you_ are right in the middle of it,' Simmons stared at Hermione, and as his eyes ran over her face it was almost as if he had touched her. She shook as he spoke. 'And even then, he doesn't Obliviate you ... he runs off with you ... he _leaves _the rest of his team ...' Simmons' eyes were wide as he looked at Hermione in excitement. '... _for you!_'

'And I'm going to kill him,' Simmons grabbed the end of the table and leant low over it as he hissed at Hermione. 'Because he won't hide after tonight, he'll come to me ... once you're dead.' Hermione dropped to her knees at those words; her wand fell from her hand and rolled away from her. She heard Simmons laugh, misreading her expression as one of fear. In fact, Hermione was close to gagging. The pain in her head was blinding her; white pain that made her feel as if she was going to throw up. A cacophony of sounds and images were assaulting her brain, people and places she didn't recognise and yet she did. Somewhere, deep beneath this pain, was the tiniest spark of panic – Simmons really meant to kill her.

'Harry doesn't do revenge,' Hermione choked out, thinking that she would probably die of this pain before Simmons could kill her.

'I guess you don't know him so well anymore,' laughed Simmons and Hermione looked up. He pointed his wand down the table, directly towards her. And then he froze. Hermione saw the muscles in Simmons' face tense as he slowly turned towards the doors behind him. Hermione retched again as they flew open with a resounding crash but Simmons was fast.

'_Avada Kedavra!' _he screamed. There was a noise like a gong sounding as the whole room was filled with a greenish light. There was a soft thump and then silence. Hermione's face was buried in her hands. Her every breath was ragged and she had no knowledge of time passing as she slowly put the missing pieces into place. She could see the hidden door, the cavernous gold ceiling, the Lufkin Arms, Harry standing above her in her dining room. _Harry_.

Hermione sat up suddenly. The room was dark; the oil lamps had gone out. Through the table legs, Hermione could see a mass slumped on the floor in front of the doors. Who had Simmons killed? Then a light was shone into her face. Hermione raised her arm to shield her eyes and warm fingers closed around it. She froze in fear and tried to yank her arm away.

'No, it's me,' someone whispered. The light was lowered. Harry was kneeling beside her, his lit wand in his hand. Hermione stared right into his eyes; she still couldn't see the Harry that she knew. However, a wave of relief overcame any doubts and she slowly moved forward into Harry's embrace. He held her against his chest and their breath was synchronised as numbness spread through Hermione. 'I'm sorry,' Harry whispered into her hair.

...


	6. Chapter Six

...

Hermione stood by Simmons dead body which lay on a marble slab, covered only by a blue sheet. It was the only bright colour in the room; every surface was perfectly white. Sterile metal instruments lay on steel trays sitting on white worktops. Metal doors with white numbers lined the lower half of the room and Hermione vaguely wondered if they were going to put Simmons through one of those doors.

There was barely room to move in the morgue; Hermione stood beside Harry, Draco Malfoy beside him, Astoria Greengrass was on Hermione's other side while Ginny stood silently at the foot of the marble slab. The white room was lit by lamps screwed into the walls; they looked like small street lights.

Draco Malfoy was prodding parts of Simmons' chest and face with his wand. The air was tense as he muttered short incantations, flicking his wand over the body. Hermione glanced over at Ginny who was studying Draco's every move, determinedly not making eye contact with her. Finally, Draco cleared his throat.

'I can't find any evidence to suggest that he was under the Imperius Curse,' he said, pulling the sheet over Simmons' face. 'He was killed by a backfiring Killing Curse but we already know that.'

'That was some Shield Charm,' remarked Ginny. She looked up at Harry for the first time and Hermione felt his whole body tense beside her. Harry and Ginny stared at each other and Hermione noticed that Astoria too was watching them. The silence was broken as Draco dragged a metal tray towards him noisily.

'I'm going home now,' he said. 'I've been up for twenty-four hours solid, thanks to you.' Hermione was not sure who he referred to. She hoped it was not her; she was not going to be blamed for this escapade. She noticed that Harry exchanged a look with Astoria when Draco made this complaint; they both rolled their eyes. Before he left Draco threw something across the room, Astoria only just caught it and glared at him indignantly as she chucked Simmons' wand into what seemed to be a giant metal film canister.

'I'll have a look at all of this now,' she said, picking up the canister and forcing a lid marked _Jacob Simmons_ followed by yesterday's date onto the top. Astoria walked out past Ginny as Harry called out to her.

'You've been awake for longer than Draco!' Astoria waved her hand dismissively over her shoulder as she pushed the door open. Ginny didn't move as Harry led Hermione after Astoria.

'I'll get him upstairs,' she said to Harry, getting out her wand. 'Get someone to take care of the body.'

'Thanks,' said Harry but Hermione noticed that he didn't really look at Ginny. Hermione and Harry walked out into the main room. Astoria was at her desk, running her fingers over Simmons' wand. She had put on her glasses and was frowning. The metal door was open and Hermione could hear footsteps on stone which became fainter and fainter. Harry grabbed a Muggle coat from the coat stand and pulled it on before gesturing for Hermione to follow him.

'We can use my lift,' he smiled.

'Your lift?'

'I used to know quite a few people in the Ministry,' said Harry as he opened a door. 'I like to get out of here without being recognised.' Silver grilles stood behind the door and as Harry spoke there was a loud grinding noise. The lift slowly came into view; first the floor and then the panelled walls until the grilles opened with more grinding noises. 'It's vintage,' Harry explained before getting in.

Hermione followed him and the grilles shut behind her. The lift seemed to groan as if began its upward journey. Hermione could just see the top of Astoria's head through the open door as they moved higher. Harry turned to her as the lift tunnelled upwards.

'So what are we going to do with you?' he breathed. Hermione didn't answer; she could now remember that bluish green light. Harry continued to look at every inch of her face and then he turned away. 'Well, erasing your memory didn't seem to work,' he remarked as if this was a casual conversation about fixing a car. 'So do you want a job?'

Hermione squinted at him suspiciously, trying to ignore the fact that her heart had lurched in excitement at the words. Harry stared straight ahead, seemingly watching the brickwork flying past them.

'Why would you want to hire me?' Hermione asked as the lift began to slow. 'You didn't even want me knowing about this.'

'Exactly,' said Harry. Bright morning light began to flood the lift and Hermione blinked fiercely. 'If you're a part of the team then you won't need to forget. I don't want to lie to you anymore.' He looked down at Hermione and she saw his sincerity and then he smiled widely. 'You're also the brightest witch of our age; I was an idiot to even think of letting you go.'

'Oh be quiet!' tutted Hermione but she couldn't help smiling as Harry pushed the grille open. 'That was years ago.'

'Nothing's changed,' said Harry quietly. They stepped out onto a small square with a park in the centre. Hermione looked to the right and could see the main street where an out of order telephone box stood – the entrance she had used in her first visit to the Ministry.

'You're wrong,' Hermione said to Harry as they walked towards the park. 'A lot has changed and ... you've missed it.' Harry stared at the path which wound through the patchy grass. He sighed.

'Maybe that's why I need to have you on this team,' he said eventually, looking at Hermione sadly. 'You remind me not to turn into someone else.' Hermione couldn't take anymore. Her eyes were damp as she threw her arms around Harry. The wind blew in her ears as they stood in the middle of the park, slowly rocking.

'We've missed you,'

'Oh, that's another thing,' said Harry quickly. He pushed Hermione away so that he could look into her face. 'You do realise you are bound to secrecy as a member of this team – you cannot tell Ron.'

'He was your best friend once,' Hermione said simply.

'The Death Eater movement is underground and so we need to be underground,' replied Harry. 'They fight dirty and so do we. I don't want more people at risk than need to be.'

'Why did you take Ginny?' Hermione challenged.

'I can't tell you that,' Harry answered. 'But I can tell why I won't take Ron. He's happy and he deserves that. You're different,' He smiled down at her. 'You've always got to have an answer and now you've finally found me out – I need you.'

'You're full of contradictions, you know?' Hermione said but she set her mouth determinedly. 'I'll take the job.'

'You start on Monday,' said Harry, putting his hands in the pockets of his coat. 'Now go home and get some sleep.' Hermione nodded, turned on her heel and walked back through the park. She turned back at the gate to wave but Harry was gone.

...

'So did they say what you'll be doing?'

'Not really,' Hermione said. 'It'll be a bit more like detective work I suppose,'

'What are you detecting?' asked Ron, taking a swig of Butterbeer.

'Just checking up on people really,' Hermione answered, swilling her drink around the glass. 'Have people recovered from the war? That kind of thing ...

'You're not selling yourself well here,' Ron chuckled, taking a handful of peanuts. 'Sounds like a questionnaire could do your job at the moment,' Hermione laughed weakly.

'It's just difficult to explain...can we talk about something else?'

'Come on, Hermione,' said Ron, putting his hand over hers. 'It's your first day tomorrow, what else are we going to talk about?'

'We can talk about your work,' smiled Hermione and Ron rolled his eyes with a grin. 'We can talk about the number of Trick Wands you sold today...' Ron tried to cover her mouth but she dodged him. '... or how many times George sneaked off to see Angelina or – do you still sell Edible Dark Marks?' Ron leaned across the table and covered Hermione's mouth with his. Hermione laughed against his lips and kissed him back. She pulled away reluctantly as a rather plump witch tried to squeeze past their table.

'Let's go home,' Hermione murmured into Ron's face. 'Early night,' She pressed her lips against his again.

'I'll pay the tab,' smiled Ron, jumping up. Hermione picked up both their cloaks and Ron walked over to the bar of the Leaky Cauldron. The pub was busy and there was much jostling as the barmen tried to hand over drinks fast enough.

Then a gut wrenching scream filled the room. Everyone went silent. The scream had come from the door that led to the entrance to Diagon Alley. Cries of dismay soon came from the same place and all those who were standing ran to the back door. Hermione went to follow them as the shouts grew in number and volume. Before she could reach the crowd however, she was knocked aside by a hooded figure.

Hermione turned to see a cloaked form make a dash for the front door of the pub, unnoticed by those attempting to see the source of commotion in Diagon Alley. Hermione hesitated for a second and then darted out of the pub. She burst onto the street, looking around her wildly before spotting her target at the end of the road. She broke into a run, following the cloak as it turned the corner.

'Hermione!'

Hermione turned to see Ron on her heels. She didn't stop running; the silhouette was just ahead of her. Ron sped up and ran beside her, breathing heavily.

'Some bloke's been attacked!' he called out. 'But there's no one there – it must've been him!' He pointed forwards as the figure turned another corner. Hermione pushed forwards, gritting her teeth against the wind rushing in her eyes. She ran into the next street and stopped.

The road was deserted; there was no one there. The person had vanished; mostly likely Apparating away. Hermione wondered why they had not done that in the first place. She shivered as Ron came up behind her. He bent over as he stopped, clutching his knees.

'Did he Disapparate?' he spluttered as Hermione stared around. 'Why run in the first place?' Hermione ignored him. She had just seen a pale shimmer in the entrance to an alleyway. A ghostly stag looked at her for a second before cantering away.

'I've got to go to work,' Hermione said. She kissed a bewildered Ron on the cheek and ran across the road and into the alleyway. The stag was fading quickly as Hermione jogged after it through a network of back streets until it led to her to a dead end. Three people stood together in front of a six foot high fence at the end of the alley way. The Patronus melted away and Hermione ran to join Harry, Draco and Astoria.

'Good to see you,' said Harry with a smile. All three of them had their wands out and Draco was panting.

'You lost them then?' he asked with sneer.

'Sorry,' Hermione said, looking to Harry instantly. 'Whoever they were, they Disapparated just after turning a corner – they must have done, there was no one there.' Draco snorted loudly.

'You had an unbelievable opportunity,' he said contemptuously. 'One simple manoeuvre and you would have had them – instead you waste your time running around like a Muggle.'

'He was running too!' cried Hermione indignantly. Draco and Harry replied at the same time.

'How do you know it was a man?'

'Because he didn't know where he was meant to go!'

'Stop bombarding her,' said Astoria firmly. 'One at a time!' Hermione smiled at Astoria gratefully as Draco spoke again.

'Man or woman, they had someone waiting for them in that street because we chased a Death Eater down that alleyway. The person you were so incompetently tracking didn't Disapparate because they needed the location of the safe house – that's how they work.'

'I'm sorry – I am sorry - but how on earth was I supposed to know that?'

'It doesn't matter,' said Harry. 'But you said he, did you see a face?'

'No,' said Hermione. 'Ron said he but I think he just assumed.' Draco made another noise of exasperation and Hermione turned to him, her fists clenched. 'Look I'm sorry, really I am, but I don't know these _manoeuvres_, I don't know how to Apparate in front of someone while they're running away from me – I gave it my best shot and I'm - '

'- sorry,' cut in Draco. 'You're sorry – we get it.' Hermione glared at him as Harry sighed.

'Come on,' Harry said. 'We better get to Diagon Alley before the cowboys get in there. And you'd better take this too.' He held out something small, round and shiny. Hermione took the pocket mirror which hung from a thin silver chain from Harry and stared into it. The glass was clouded; her reflection was nowhere to be seen.

'You remember the mirror that Sirius gave me?' asked Harry and Hermione nodded. 'Well, I've made something of the same sort, except I could only manage to get it to work with voices– hang it around your neck and we can all communicate. It might save us another slip-up like that.' Hermione slipped her head through the chain and tucked the mirror underneath her robes.

Harry then put his hand on Draco's arm who did the same to Astoria. Hermione grabbed Astoria's other arm just as the other three closed their eyes. They all stepped into the compressing darkness. Hermione, unsure of their exact destination in Diagon Alley let her body be guided by Astoria's. She held on desperately until they all landed on the cobbles.

'Too late,' muttered Draco. 'The cowboys are here.'

Under the archway that led back into the Leaky Cauldron a tent had been erected. Milling around it were nearly fifty Magical Law Enforcement Squad workers who occasionally dashed in or out of the tent.

'Astoria, Draco, clear them out,' instructed Harry. 'Hermione, with me.'

Draco and Astoria marched off, wands drawn and Hermione watched them talking with the tallest Magical Enforcement Squad wizard; a few words from Draco and the majority of wizards were called off, leaving two guarding the entrance to the tent. Astoria and Draco slipped through as Hermione and Harry stepped into the shadows of Diagon Alley; Harry lowered his face, clearly trying to avoid being recognised as the Squad tramped past, grumbling.

Once they had passed Harry stepped out and Hermione followed. Harry was studying the shop fronts, his eyes following the line of the pavement – he appeared to be looking for something in particular. Hermione also ran her eyes over the street – she could see nothing out of place. Then two synchronised whistles made her whole body flinch. Harry calmly pulled on the chain around his neck, drawing out a small mirror. Hermione mimicked him and her breath misted the mirror further.

'You need to see this,' Draco Malfoy's voice echoed around the empty street as Hermione held her mirror aloft. She held it to her ear and Draco's next words blasted into her brain 'Oh, and it was a woman.'

'How do you know?' asked Harry, dropping the mirror beneath his robes. Hermione copied him again. She was beginning to feel a little useless. When Draco spoke for a second time she could hear him perfectly, the sound echoing through her very body. She suspected that others would now not be able to overhear the conversation.

'Just come and look,'

'Go on ahead,' Harry told Hermione, still looking around. 'I've just got to check something.' He stepped forward, running his hands over shop door. A little bemused, Hermione set off towards the tent. The two Law Enforcement wizards exchanged a glance as she approached.

'I'm afraid you can't come in, Miss,' protested the one on the left as Hermione reached the entrance. 'Restricted access.'

'But I'm with ...' Hermione pointed lamely into the tent. She wasn't entirely sure how to refer to her new colleagues, considering the underground status of this organisation.

'With them?' The second Squad wizard looked confused. 'I don't think so, Miss.' Hermione looked between the two guards, stricken.

'Oi Granger?' A shout came from within the tent. 'Are you coming in or not?'

At these words the two wizards jumped aside, one holding the tent flaps open for Hermione who stepped through gratefully. The other man stared at the ground as she passed. It was almost pitch black in the tent, except for two beams of light, both pointed into the face of a middle aged man who lay on his back on the ground, his face frozen in a mask of fear.

'You took your time, Granger,' commented Draco in a muffled voice, due to the lit wand that he had clamped between his teeth as he went through the man's pockets.

'My name's Hermione, actually,' said Hermione sharply. 'Now that we're _colleagues_, I think you can manage four syllables, can't you?'

'Sure you wouldn't prefer _new girl_?' smirked Draco. Astoria appeared to be intently studying the man's face, trying to ignore the rising tension in the tent.

'Quite sure, Draco,' said Hermione quietly.

'All right then, _Hermione_,' he said, taking the wand from between his teeth. 'Could you shine some light onto his face, so I can get on with some real work?' Hermione didn't answer, merely giving a tiny flick of her wand so that a shaft of light shone through the darkness onto the body. It was then that she noticed that Astoria had shuffled away from the corpse at Draco's words; most likely stung by his suggestion that she was also slowing him down.

Hermione stood for a few minutes as Draco prodded his wand into the man's flesh, muttering incantations. Astoria watched him unblinkingly, while holding the dead man's possessions in her lap. The two wizards outside the tent could be heard whispering to each other, though their words were indistinguishable. Hermione heard a few splatters of water against the canvas and rolled her eyes at the prospect of more rain. Suddenly, Draco leant over the body so that his nose was millimetres from the dead man's lips and sniffed as if he were a hound. He sat back on his heels, frowning as Hermione heard a voice behind her.

'Special access,' announced Harry and the tent flaps pulled apart. Harry strode into the darkness and Hermione saw him tuck a piece of leather into the pocket of his robes.

'That's all I had to say?' asked Hermione indignantly. 'Special access?' Harry grimaced guiltily and rummaged in his pocket again before throwing something small towards Hermione. A leather flap opened up to display a rather tattered piece of parchment about the size of a credit card. The parchment was blank and Hermione raised her eyebrows at Harry. He rested his wand on the parchment and whispered, 'Special access.' As he said the words thin gold shadows began to spread across the parchment, slowly merging to form Kingsley Shacklebolt's seal and a small diamond formed before words in a small spiky hand:

_Unlimited access to any areas guarded or restricted by Ministry authority is granted to the holder of this paper by Kingsley Shacklebolt, Minister for Magic. _

'But then anyone can use this?' stated Hermione and Harry shook his head.

'The words will only appear if the voice is mine, Draco's, Astoria's or Ginny's and now,' he placed his wand on the paper again and Hermione saw all the muscles in his arm lock as he cast a non-verbal spell. The parchment glowed purple and trembled in Hermione's hand before going limp. 'And now, it works for you – you can keep that one.'

Hermione slipped the leather holder into her pocket as they turned back to Draco and Astoria. Draco was pressing a small scrap of white fabric against the mouth of corpse while Astoria held the dead man's wand in her hand, along with something small and golden.

'What have you found?' asked Harry, crouching down beside Astoria. Hermione stood stubbornly beside Draco.

'For a start, he wasn't killed by a Killing Curse,' said Draco, dropping the fabric into a small leather pouch. 'He was poisoned,'

'Not attacked?' Hermione asked quickly. 'But we heard shouts!'

'I didn't say he wasn't attacked Gr- _Hermione_,' answered Draco. 'His attacker poisoned him with this here-' He pointed his wand at the dead man's lips and Hermione and Harry both leaned forward to squint through the glaring wand light. As the wand shook slightly Hermione could see light shimmering across a distinct red lipstick mark which was still left over the mouth of the corpse.

'So it was a woman, then?' Hermione half-asked and half-stated.

'I bloody hope it was a woman,' smirked Draco. With a glance from Harry he was business-like again. 'Yes, I think we can assume it was a woman and that she killed this man with her kiss because there are no traces of any curses on him and no physical wounds; well, the same effect would have been achieved by simply strangling him but - '

'That would be difficult for a woman to do, considering the build of the victim,' interrupted Astoria. 'And it would take time – time for screaming, kicking and generally attracting attention -'

'Yes, _thank you_,' Draco cut back in. 'All perfectly reasonable assumptions but we simply don't need to think about them because I could smell the poison on the lipstick.'

'What poison was it then?' asked Harry and Draco shrugged. Astoria snorted quietly, earning herself a raised eyebrow from Draco.

'I'll know once I've analysed my sample but I can't do that here,' protested Draco.

'Fine,' said Harry, sounding tired. 'You go on back, we'll see you there.' Hermione attempted to glimpse at her watch discreetly. It was nearly ten minutes to midnight; she highly doubted that she was going to sleep tonight. Draco too appeared less than optimistic about getting home in the next twelve hours as he strode from the tent. A loud _crack _followed his exit.

'What have you got for me?' Harry asked Astoria with a smile as she stood up.

'His wand,' said Astoria passing it over. 'which didn't show up any distinctive spells to identify him and this,' She held up a small golden key.

'Excellent,' Harry said with a gleeful smile. Hermione looked between him and Astoria who had raised her eyebrows in matching excitement.

'You can identify him from that key?' Hermione asked, puzzled.

'_We_ can,' reproached Harry. 'because it's a Gringotts key and the Gringotts goblins know the owner of every key they've ever given out.'

'Easy peasy,' whispered Astoria, still smiling. Hermione frowned slightly at the Muggle phrase but just as she opened her mouth to ask another question she heard a loud indignant voice from outside the tent.

'Just a simple answer, sir, that's all I ask,' Hermione closed her eyes slowly in utter despair as she listened to Ernie accosting the Magical Law Enforcement Squad wizard. 'Was a man killed tonight?' Astoria was already at the tent entrance as Hermione turned around. Her figure blocked Hermione's view of Ernie who fell silent at Astoria's appearance. Hermione's eyes flitted to Harry who was slowly drawing his hood over his head to conceal his face.

'I'm afraid a man was killed tonight, sir,' she said politely and Hermione smiled wryly while imagining Ernie's expression when faced with someone as unconsciously beautiful as Astoria. 'I can't make any more of a statement about it I'm afraid; are you press, sir?' Hermione heard the dangerous note in her voice – if Ernie seemed too sharp or curious, she could imagine that a discreet visit during the night would cause him to be very forgetful for a while. Fortunately Ernie was satisfied with this response.

'Oh ... thank you ... that's all I wanted to know really ... um,' Ernie stepped to the side as Astoria made her way out of the tent. Harry followed her and after a second's delay, Hermione too ran out onto the street.

'Hermione!' She turned on her heel slowly, trying to recall every detail of the cover story she had told Ron.

'Hi Ernie,' she smiled. Ernie's arms were spread wide, his brow furrowed and his stance demanding an explanation.

'Hey,' he deadpanned, not moving an inch. 'So what, you're on the Squad now?'

'Not quite,' Hermione said, trying to look Ernie in the eye. His one raised eyebrow was making it rather difficult.

'So where _do_ you work now?' Ernie asked, dropping his arms to his sides. 'You don't work in my office anymore, do you? I guessed that from the overnight move of all your possessions. Tomorrow I'm going to be greeted by an empty desk,'

'You did some Saturday overtime,' Hermione sighed, a realisation not a question.

'Yeah, I did,' Ernie said. 'And I was wondering when you were going to let me know..um... _anything _about what's going on with you,' He smiled in an insincere and accusatory manner.

'I was going to, Ernie, honest,' Hermione almost grimaced, that word was bitter. God she was sick of secrecy already. 'It's been manic,' – well that part was true – 'I'm working sort of freelance' – that wasn't – 'crossing over departments' – true enough – 'sorry I didn't tell you,' Ernie shrugged.

'Don't worry about it,' he said and although his smile seemed reluctant Hermione thought it was more genuine. Then she heard a shout, Harry impatiently yelling her name.

'I've got to go but I'd go home, Ernie, whoever did this might still be around,'

'Oh, so you've been promoted above me? You get to order me around now?'

'Ernie - '

'No, I get it,' he raised his arms in mock surrender. 'I'm going, have a nice time, Hermione,' He turned away, slunk past the side of the tent towards the pub. Hermione sighed deeply before turning and running into the dark after Harry.

...

'Sorry!' Hermione ran under the minimal shelter offered by the entrance to Gringotts as the rain began to pour down upon Diagon Alley. Harry waved away her apologies before banging his fist upon the bronze doors of Gringotts. Hermione felt a miniscule smile creep across her face as she remembered the last time she had been to Gringotts with Harry. She remembered these heavy doors wrenched from their hinges.

'Do you remember the dragon?' she whispered as Astoria pressed her ear to the door listening to whispering and creaking from within the bank. Harry smiled back and nodded.

'I've ridden five more since,' he whispered back as the doors began to creak open. Two goblins stood on the marble floor before them. The silver set of doors behind them opened slowly to reveal the lobby that was swamped in darkness. One goblin held a gold and jewel encrusted lantern, its long nose held high in the air.

'Why do you disturb the bank at this time?'

'Lighten up a bit,' Harry said, a grin across his face as he strolled through the door. 'It's only five hours after closing time,' Hermione and Astoria followed as Harry strode into the darkness. The chandelier that hung directly in the centre of the domed ceiling flickered with magical flame as he reached the centre of the lobby, lighting up the unmanned counters. 'I need a favour,'

'Need?' repeated the goblin bearing the lantern, a sneer appearing. 'I must request that you return during opening hours.'

'Ah see, I need a favour _now_,' grinned Harry, his hands in his pockets. He threw his head back and let his hood fall from his face. 'Is Griphook around?' Hermione watched as the goblin's features froze once he had taken in Harry's face.

'Mr Potter,' the goblin said with a civil incline of his head. 'No, Griphook is not within the bank this evening,'

'Shame,' Harry said before winking at Hermione. 'He would have loved to catch up with an old friend,'

'I'm sure,' returned the goblin before making his way across the hall to the one desk littered with papers and piles of gold. 'What can we do for you Mr Potter, do you wish to make a withdrawal? The rails will not take you outside opening hours,'

'No, I don't want money,' Harry said, leaning against the desk. 'I'd be _really _looking for Griphook if I was after money, wouldn't I?' Hermione watched Astoria carefully to see if the other witch was any more informed about Harry's words but her face was neutrally composed into a small smile. The goblin mirrored her.

'Yes, Mr Potter,' he answered, his eyes glittering with suppressed rage. 'So what is that you require?' Harry took his hand from his pocket and dropped the small golden key onto the desk. The goblin's quick fingers were upon it immediately. A few seconds dripped by as the goblin studied every each of the golden key before placing it on the desk once more and sliding it towards Harry.

'The owner of the key is Mr Fergus Dresden,' declared the goblin. Harry grinned widely and pocketed the key. 'Good evening, Miss Greengrass,' the goblin added, inclining his head respectfully to Astoria. 'It is you that I normally deal with when your department requires identification, is it not?' Astoria nodded as she opened her mouth to speak but Harry cut her off.

'Yes, she's normally more polite than me, isn't she?' He didn't wait for an answer before laughing. 'Yes, well, we're in a rush tonight. Thank you for your help,' He walked across the marble floor, his shoes clicking ostentatiously. Both Hermione and Astoria nodded to the goblin before turning and following Harry through the double doors.

'Well, we have a name,' Astoria said as she and Hermione walked down the marble steps, Harry running back towards the white tent. The rain continued to hammer down, drops crawling down the back of Hermione's neck. 'Although we may not have Gringotts vaults for much longer,' Hermione laughed nervously in agreement. 'Do you have any idea what all that was about?'

'Not really,' Hermione answered. Harry was re-emerging from the tent and strolling back towards them. 'I knew he wasn't keen on goblins but it seems he really doesn't like them,'

'And Griphook?'

'Oh, um,' Hermione was saved as Harry jogged towards them before shaking his hair like a dog. He then offered both his arms for Apparition.

'Because I'm not wet enough already,' Hermione scolded. She rested a hand on Harry's forearm and closed her eyes. She focused on the Atrium, calling up images of the golden fountain and the lifts. She twisted through the suffocating darkness, recalling every detail of her destination, and then her body jarred as if she had struck a wall. Her arm was stretched out as she clung to Harry's. She felt a tingling pain across her wrist and the fear of Splinching gripped her stomach.

'This way!' Harry's voice was a distant shout. Hermione relinquished her vision of the Atrium and let Harry guide her through the compressing vacuum. Her mistake cost her when she hit the ground horizontally upon landing. Hermione felt the wind being knocked from her and she curled into a ball upon the steel floor of what she recognised as the raised dais of the group's underground office.

'Is she alright?' called someone as Harry grabbed Hermione's arm and hauled her into a sitting position.

'I thought you knew you could Apparate straight in here,' Harry said urgently. His hands were all over Hermione's hair, apparently feeling for bumps to the skull.

'I didn't know,' Hermione said against gritted teeth, trying to inhale. Harry was rubbing her back as she grasped her own knees. Then Ginny dropped down into a crouch in front of her.

'Are you okay?' she asked, looking incredibly serious.

'Yeah, I'm fine,' Hermione managed to breathe before scrambling to her feet. She could feel her cheeks burning. As if she hadn't embarrassed herself enough with her failure of a chase...

'Sorry about that,' Harry said, giving her arm a quick rub. Hermione shook her head impatiently as he flourished his hand dramatically. 'I present, your desk,'

A small wooden desk stood on the opposite corner of the dais to Draco's, the long wooden table separating them. Hermione sat down at her desk and peered over the edge of the dais to see a few armchairs clustered around a coffee table at the base of an ancient staircase.

'What's up there?' she asked.

'The cells,' answered Harry lightly, distributing some quills and filing boxes onto Hermione's empty desk.

'Cells?' she repeated incredulously. 'You've got Death Eaters up there?'

'No,' tutted Harry. 'Just holding cells, if we've just caught someone, want to interrogate them – you get the picture,'

'Thank heavens,' muttered Hermione. Harry raised his eyebrows as he laughed before he made a loud retching noise and threw his hands across his face. It was only seconds later that Hermione followed suit. A gas was creeping into her mouth, nose, into every exposed pore. It was as if she had buried her face into rotting flesh. Hermione gagged as she heard Astoria and Ginny coughing. She watched as Harry attempted a Bubble-Head Charm but he only managed to trap the foul air inside the Bubble.

A gale of wind – clean, fresh, beautiful air – swept across the room and Hermione gulped it down with relief. Harry was already striding across the room towards Draco who had a cauldron positioned in the middle of his desk. He too had a Bubble-Head Charm in place but had obviously done so before releasing toxic gas upon his colleagues. Hermione watched as he cast another Bubble around the cauldron itself.

'Thanks for the warning there,' Harry snapped, getting his wand out. 'What the hell are playing at? You trying to kill us all?' He flicked his wand, Vanishing Draco's Bubble-Head.

'Alright, sorry, sorry,' Draco threw his hands in the air. 'It all went very _nasty_ once I put the tiniest trace of that lipstick in it.'

'But it didn't kill us,' Astoria noted, climbing the stairs.

'Exactly!' yelled Draco in what might have been a grateful tone. 'I don't know what you're so worked up about!'

'That wasn't my point,' Astoria continued as she reached the desk. 'I meant that when you added the lipstick the gases didn't kill us – so the lipstick isn't toxic? Maybe something else killed Dresden '

'The potion obviously caused asphyxiation but not through the gas,' Draco tentatively pushed a gloved hand through the bubble over the potion and poured a milky substance into the cauldron. He removed the bubble and although everyone flinched, the smell did not return.

'Just a pleasant side effect?' asked Harry drily.

'Probably,' muttered Draco, rolling up the sleeves of his Healer robes. He gave the mixture a stir with his wand and then sighed. 'I'm going to have to start with a new batch and try and isolate the ingredients,' He Vanished the contents of the cauldron and squirted in what look amusingly like Fairy Liquid which frothed into soap suds. 'Astoria can you help with a bigger sample,' he held out the stained handkerchief. 'So, Dresden who?'

'Fergus Dresden,' Harry pulled a chair from the long table for Astoria before taking one for himself. Hermione remained standing, feeling more than a little out of place. 'Don't know who he is but he's got a Gringotts vault and had the key on him so it was an easy one,' He paused and seemed to watch Astoria intently as she focused her wand on minute points on the handkerchief before whispering replication spells. 'So now we ask around and try and find out who he is,'

'Anything else on him?' Hermione asked, desperate to be helpful. 'A wallet maybe? It could have a business card, photos of his children, something like that,'

'There was a wallet but no personal clues,' answered Astoria, she now had a small circle of red paste in the centre of the handkerchief which she passed to Draco. 'There wasn't much in it either, like he'd spent most of it in the pub or something,'

'I didn't see him in the pub,' mused Hermione. 'But it was busy, I could have missed him,' Harry turned in his seat and stretched to grasp a pile of parchment that was sitting on the long table. He rifled through it, frowning on certain pages. Then he shook his head. 'No, Squad reports have no witnesses seeing the victim in the Leaky Cauldron up to four hours before the attack,'

'Maybe it was a robbery,' Hermione suggested. Draco, his face hot and shiny, looked up from the cauldron.

'You don't go to all _this_ trouble for a few Galleons,' he spat. 'It was a murder,' Hermione didn't say anything. She checked her watch; nearly two o'clock in the morning. She rubbed her eyes and wondered what Ron was doing. Realising her stupidity, she imagined him getting into bed about two hours ago, without her. She was going to have some explaining to do.

'Quick!' yelled Draco. 'Beaker! Test tube!' Astoria thrust whatever he called for into his hands as Draco caught different coloured concoctions and solidifying pastes up into bottles which he sealed with corks. Harry sighed.

'We'd better get started on who this guy is,' he said. He turned his chair around so that he sat at the top of the table and then looked expectantly at Hermione. 'Any ideas?' Hermione frowned.

'Um, no?' Harry looked disappointed and Hermione irritably wondered whether he was expecting her to simply pull out an address from thin air. She tried to block out Draco's curses and calls for more equipment. She'd been in her post for mere hours but she had already taken offence to the way Draco acted as if Astoria was his assistant when she clearly had her own job to do. Hermione wondered what their exact job titles would be listed as in the Ministry directory. Were they listed at all? A small spark of an idea shot into her thought.

'I've got a way of finding out if he works for the Ministry,' she said out loud. 'Have you got the Ministry directory here?' A grin of realisation spread across Harry's face and he pointed to one of the metal doors that was propped open with a Hippogriff foot doorstop.

'There's one in my office, on the desk,' Hermione grabbed the purple volume from the edge of the table, taking a glance around the room. She was disappointed by how normal it was, there were no clues about Harry's life over the last three years. She opened it as she walked back to the table and then groaned.

'Ergh, it's not in alphabetical order,' she complained, sitting down at the table. 'It's in order of department – this is going to take forever,'

'Fergus Dresden was the deputy head of the Department of International Magical Cooperation but also a member of the Muggle Board, a committee established for the purpose of discussing and approving any legislation regarding Muggles just before it passes. He was a pureblood wizard, married to Wilhelmina Smith – aunt of Zacharias Smith if anyone's interested. They have two children – ten and sixteen – and he was forty-nine.'

Hermione looked up to see Ginny standing at the top of the steps of the dais. Draco stopped cursing and Harry's eyebrows had raised a fraction.

'How do you know all of that?' he asked.

'I went upstairs and asked the security desk if a Fergus Dresden worked here,' Ginny explained, she was slightly pink and Hermione could tell that she was desperately fighting her most natural instinct to turn red. 'The wizard had a look behind reception and then I flashed some ID and I got the file.' She tossed it onto the long wooden table and Harry snatched it up hungrily.

'He looked older than forty-nine,' Draco said, breaking the silence.

'I sat on that board once,' Hermione noted, completely ignoring Draco. 'I don't remember Dresden though,'

'Good work, Ginny,' Harry smiled, putting the file down. 'Bit of old fashioned common sense, I like it,' Ginny did blush now but she stuck her chin out, knowing she'd earned her praise. Harry brought the file back over to her. 'Could you go and inform the family please?' Ginny's face fell, her eyes wide. Hermione looked away quickly. She knew from the Department of Magical Law Enforcement staffroom that informing the family was the shittiest part of any job at the Ministry. She hurried over to her desk and sat down; covertly watching Ginny as she silently put her cloak on, the back of her neck a flaming red.

...


End file.
